Sound of the Underground
by BeardedTit
Summary: Stephanie realizes that her life is a far cry from fulfilling and returns to Trenton. As always, things aren't easy in the start. Especially when there's competition - strange men in black interfere with her new bounty hunting job, starting with her first skip…
1. No Good Advice

Greetings, everyone! This is my first Evanovich fic. I love her books, but like many here have mentioned, they are starting to lack a bit in character development. So, thank goodness for fan fiction. I am afraid Plum fics and Janet facts have become one in my head, the quality in here is STUNNING!

I listened a lot to a British girl group "Girls Aloud" while writing the first chapter, especially their song "Sexy! No no no..." I feel their energy and attitude are Steph-like. Here's a Youtube link for Sexy: watch?v=cZlttVuTgqY

Ps. Not making any profit from this.

Hope you like.

**1 No Good Advice**

_"Cos I've been sitting back, no chance of falling, hoping that nothing ever blows (no, no).." - Sexy! No no no... by Girls Aloud_

If a tree falls in a forest where no one is to see it fall, does it really fall?

If you fail at life in some other town than your hometown, does it really count as a failure? As long as you keep 'em life-praising postcards coming to your family….

I've sent none. I occasionally call. So that my mother knows I'm alive. Though it is my grandmother I dial. She has the honour of informing of my continuing existence on earth to the rest of the family. You see, mother and I differ vastly when it comes to defining goals in life. She drains life out of me whenever we communicate. She believes that a marriage and children will satisfy a good woman's heart. Unfortunately, that's what my ex-co-workers thought too in the town I left just yesterday.

It was an ex tempore decision to pack my bags and leave.

I guess I just lied. I live in a trailer. Didn't have to pack.

But back to me and my former co-workers. We had (me, Misty and Susie) gathered around the staff's kitchen table to call it a night in the seedy bar we worked in. For me, our usually nonsense chit chat ended to a sudden life-clarifying thought and a decision.

Our conversation in short:

"_Sometimes I hate this job," I had exclaimed when I glanced down my shirt and noticed the beer stains._

"_I agree," Susie agreed and applied a third layer of lip-gloss._

"_You know, it is not just the job anymore… It´s like my whole life is stuck in a rut. Something needs to change."_

"_But Steph… how about that cop that you once mentioned?"_

"_What?"_

"_That Joe or something. You have a man right there."_

"_It was in high school when we…," I hated to call it a relationship,"came acquainted. And what do you mean 'a man right there´?"_

"_You know," she replied,"a thing to change your life. A reason to settle down. Have something long-lasting, life-changing… The shitty side working here is definitely the pervs, but a plus is you get to see the town's male population. That cop Martin is really cute!"_

_I just stared at her._

"_What," Misty laughed, "what were you thinking about then?"_

"_I dunno. Like a new job."_

"_Honey. It's not like you are here to save money for medical school."_

_Ouch. That hurt. Even though I knew I wasn't doctor material._

"_Well. Yes. But."_

"_Face it. All you need is a man. Though a man always needs you more. You have to train them a little," Susie said and paused like a trained poodle herself. I wonder where she had learned her life perspectives._

_Ugh. I didn't want anything that needed to be "trained". Jeez. My own life was enough to manage._

_Misty laughed. "You need a man, quick! How about that firefighter Chris?"_

"_Chris's hands are slippery when he thinks he isn't too drunk," I replied._

"_But he likes you. You know, he would be a really good father."_

_I almost threw up at that._

Sooo… From our conversation I realized two things – I'm not good at making long-term decisions (I get distracted by Tastycakes, damn it!) and two, I really didn't need a man. Been there, done that. Men, used diapers often themselves, tend to drag trash into your house. And then they hump that trash on your kitchen table.

But most of all – something really needed to change in my life. The only thing I was now satisfying was my pastry needs.

I want more. But what, exactly?

Well, ironic that this horrifying realization ended me up in the town I escaped years ago in an equal hurry.

Yes. I was back in Trenton.

My name is Stephanie Plum, 28 years old. I am currently sitting in my trailer on Stark Street. Waiting patiently for a man called Chris O'Brien to show up. An hour ago I threatened my cousin Vinnie to give me a job as a bounty hunter. Grudgingly, he agreed and gave me a case.

I know vaguely about this job. Vinnie was never really discussed in our family – there were rumours about his sexual habits that didn't fit in Trenton normalcy. It's all about marriage, two kids, a dog and a white picket fence in here. Though I do hope that duck rumour is just a rumour – if not, I am afraid I have to castrate Vinnie for real.

When I left Vinnie's Bail Bonds, I heard Connie, his secretary, say something loudly about me and high-level skips through the open window. I guess you get lots of money from these high-levels. Suits me fine.

I have not opened the file Vinnie gave me. All I need is the skip's address and picture. How hard could this be? Not like you needed a police training to be a B-Hunter.

Wait. There he is! Helloooo, mister O'Brien...

By the way, what's a good woman anyway?


	2. Meet The Criminal

**2 Meet The Criminal… And All His Cousins?**

_Can't turn around, just to run out  
Is there any light on the way home?  
'Cause somewhere along I played it wrong  
And fell into a world so far from home_

_Girl overboard  
I thought I had it but I stumbled  
And I thought I'd last forever, oh  
Girl overboard  
I thought I had it but I tumbled  
And I thought no doubt about it, oh_

Girl Overboard by Girls Aloud

* * *

Swiftly, without any solid plan, I left my car and hurried my way to O'Brien's door. Actually, I hadn't readied myself for anything, especially for a hostile attitude, because after my third knock the door opened and I was pulled inside like a lollipop out of a child's mouth. The extent of my stupidity reached me only afterwards.

"Hey!" I protested and tried to shrug free. "This is man-handling!"

"Mmm. I'd love to man-handle you."

I stopped slapping at O'Brien's hands and raised my head to see his face. SCARY this up-close! He was tall, muscular, and his smile... a distortion of a smile.

"Well… anyway," I tried to collect myself. "My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm here to take you the police station as you have skipped –"

The man started to laugh. I quieted down.

"You? Hilarious," he managed, almost choking from laughter.

I felt irritation. I wasn't that amusing, was I? I straightened my spine.

"Wow! Aren't you a tough individual! Laughing, because society wants you to be held responsible for your actions! If you co-operate, this is easier –"

"Indeed it will be. Now, get on all fours and present me your _plum_ pussy," he said darkly and nodded towards his bedroom.

"I'm sure you can have sexual services in jail too," I replied uncertainly. Now was the time to run, most likely.

"Slut, I'm not kidding. They don't call me The Night Rapist for nothing."

The Night Rapist?

"Perhaps I'll come later – "

Things happened in a rush. I was thrown on his bed; my wrists were bound to the bed's frame. I guess I had truly lived a meaningless life – instead seeing a film of my past, I saw a picture of my future – raped. Dead.

No.

I reached out with my jaws and sank my teeth into his wrist, biting as viciously as I could. He made a sound and withdrew a little. I expected him to hit me, but he only stared.

"I like it rough, too," he said slowly. "But guess what I like even more?"

I didn't answer. Just hoped he got his kicks from flashy underwear and my beige grandma panties would make his dick scream in horror and drop dead on the floor. But I was pretty sure he was violence-driven.

"When I get to train a pussy."

"Uh, you mean agility? With cats?"

His smile widened. Then he unzipped my jeans and rolled them down my legs.

"A nice chastise belt you have there. I guess you're in for a heavy training."

I bit my cheek.

He left the bed and opened the big closet in the room. From there he retrieved a black whip and tested it in the air. The nasty sound it made turned my blood cold.

"Like what you see?" he asked. Then he dropped his pants. Silk-boxers? I was even more surprised when he took a bottle of expensive perfume and bathed in it, smiling. Actually, what I could detect of his home from my position, it was tastefully decorated.

So he was a crazy rapist who liked to be… neat? Maybe I ought tell him I had AIDS.

Slowly, he started to creep up on the bed. When he reached my upper side, he licked my cheek. I felt sick.

"I showered a week ago!"

He froze, then produced a ball gag and made me bit into it.

Time finally slowed down somewhat to its normal pace when O'Brien's front door was kicked in just as he yanked my thighs apart. Three big men stormed in. They were dressed in black – cargoes, tight t-shirts and all of them pointed guns at us.

Was this a divine intervention or a start of a gang-fight?

"Get your hands off the lady," one of the fridges said. He was of Latin origin.

O'Brien shook his head. "No." His fingers curled around my throat. "What makes you think I'd do that?"

I hoped this wasn't going to expand into Cold War proportions, chronologically speaking.

No chance of that.

"El tiempo se acabó," * the other Latino, the one with a tear tattoo on his face, sighed like he had laundry to do.

And then shoot at us.

A window shattered. I gasped. O'Brien let out a pained moan. He grabbed his backside, releasing me in the process. Next a blur of black threw him off of me and one of the fridges landed on him.

The tearless Latino broke my wrist-restraints.

My breathing hitched audibly when he leaned over the bed. He paused and glanced down. He didn't smile, but something made me believe that he might be… friendly.

"The situation is under control now," he whispered. Uh huh. I rose slowly to a sitting position, watching him warily, but he merely gave me my jeans and retreated with others to the living room. I spat the ball gag out of my mouth and put the jeans back on.

I heard someone snicker something about a minor flesh wound. Some thudding noises followed. The loud groan came probably from O'Brien. I wonder what he'd done to make them come after him.

I sat a while on the bed, looking at my wrists.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Feeling better?" It was the same man who had freed me.

I nodded. Might as well act like a big girl, considering I already wore big girl panties in the truest sense of the word.

"The car," the tear man exclaimed from the hallway and went outside.

"O'Brien's ready," the third man, who might as well be described a white dinosaur, informed.

I sprang back to life. "You're taking him? But he's mine!"

The duo looked at me.

"Oh. I'm sorry, but your boyfriend – "

"We don't have a relationship! He's my skip!"

"You serious?"

What do you mean, serious? Did I amuse them too? "Yes! I'm a bounty hunter," I grounded out.

They looked at each other.

"Look miss, we are gonna take him –"

I saw in my mind how a load of cash passed my account. To hell with a bunch of criminals, I was going to die anyway if I couldn't buy food.

"Noooo!" I leaped off the bed. "He's mine!"

They looked surprised. I descended on the Latin. We tumbled down. Unfairly, I was quickly rolled under him. And I guess some strange male honour prevented him from hitting me while I desperately clawed, scratched and tried to nip his hands with my teeth.

"Now lady, a passionate woman is an every man's dream, but this is a bit too heavy on the aggressive side," the man holding me said and suddenly lay all of his weight on me. Very effective. Dear god, like a SUV had been thrown at me. Cheek to cheek, pelvis to pelvis… It would've been an intimate embrace had we been lovers. I sniffed.

"As soon as you calm down, I let you go," he whispered.

"I am calm," I replied tersely, refusing to look into his eyes again.

Someone's phone ringed.

"Yes boss. No boss. We're still here. Having a small problem." A pause. "Well. Perhaps not so small."

I knew the speaker had looked at me. I couldn't help the irrationality. "Are you calling me fat?!" I seethed, feeling like my head was about to burst like an overripe tomato under pressure. The emotional roller-coaster was obviously much.

The man on top of me actually jerked in surprise.

"Yes. You heard," the man on the phone continued. "She's tangling with Lester on the floor. We'll be there soon as –"

He paused when he saw me zapping "Lester" with his own taser. It had dangled from his belt rather enticingly. I smiled evilly. The talking man quickly dropped his phone in order to – what? I'll never know, because he was too slow, I tased him too.

The third one, the one who scared me the most, was yet to return. Yet I handled my nerves perfectly when he re-entered the house and I let the electrical current sing.

The trio had made O'Brien a nice packet for me to collect, robes and all. I had to hurry though; I wasn't sure how long the men would be unconscious.

Smartly, O'Brien felt the sting of a taser too in case he was planning to shout attention. I grabbed his legs. Slowly, we backed down from his house into the street. His head clanked against the stairs.

Shit, he was heavy.

I looked around and saw a sitting kid looking at me suspiciously from the curb.

"Twenty if you help me roll him into the van?" I asked. He shrugged nonchalantly, came over and took hold of O'Brien's upper side. Together, we successfully loaded O'Brien into my transportation.

After that I ran back to his apartment and left the taser at Lester's side. If fate was merciful, I wouldn't see them anytime soon.

Just as I started my engine, I noticed a black Porsche glide to a stop nearby. Jeez. You wouldn't expect to see those in this neighbourhood.

* * *

* Time's up


	3. 3 Hauling in the Criminal

**3 Hauling in the Criminal**

_Cos baby this is real life__  
__You wanna get your mind on your occupation__  
__The moment's got to feel right__  
__Cos honey if it don't then get out the station__  
__Cos baby this is real life__  
_

_You've gotta get it, you've gotta get it and pretty soon__  
__You'll find the fingers fit__  
__You've gotta get it, you've gotta get it__  
__And find your groove before the others trip!_

**Real Life** by **Girls Aloud**

* * *

The trip to the police station went smoothly for the first four minutes. Then adrenaline dissolved from my bloodstream and emotions took charge. Simultaneously, I was proud of myself, ashamed and afraid. As if I had taken first hundred steps of a hellish marathon, without proper running shoes.

And when I glanced at my skip, I realized how imbecilic my actions had been. What if he came after me? I hadn't exactly proven myself to be a dangerous one to mess with.

Indeed. When his penalty done, what would stop him?

I was quickly nearing a state of a full panic attack so when the first insult was hurled from the back of my mini house, I was fast to park to the nearest parking lot and roll O'Brien along the car floor with my foot. I wish I had enough strength to throw him around.

"Bitch. How original," I said to him. "Was the first year in school too arduous?"

"What you gonna do? Pinch me, _bitch_?"

I didn't answer. I took my dirty kitchen rag, pushed it into his mouth and wrapped my nylons around his head to keep the rag in so that he could have a good and long taste of my kitchen dirt.

After that, I concentrated on watching his eyes. For 60 seconds he raged, huffed and puffed but then managed to come to terms with his helpless position and looked back at me in silence. When I stayed stoic, careful to avoid a facial emotion, I could see a glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes.

It wasn't remotely enough. He should be scared, feel the threat of being violated. Then _be_ violated.

I ought to take a plunger and shove it up his anus. Savour the feeling, perhaps smoke for the first time in my life. Tape it. Re-run it.

This was a true predicament. What was he doing free, the lowest shit of the world?

I opened his file. Then I speeded to the police station.

I remembered that I had an axe somewhere in my van (at one point my portable stove had broken down and I had to chop wood for camp fires, mind you), so when I freed O'Brien's legs and raised the axe in warning, it was rather easy to get him moving in compliance. Once inside the station, I asked two officers to walk him behind the bars. Then I stormed to the desk.

"What's he doing free?" I asked, slamming O'Brien's file on the counter.

"I can't tell you," the officer sitting told me.

"You can't tell me or WON'T tell me?"

"Um. No. Just can't tell you. Thank you for bringing – "

"Stephanie?" someone interrupted us. I turned. Of all people… it was Joseph Morelli.

"Stephanie Plum?" he asked again, even though he seemed already sure it was me.

I turned back to the officer serving me. "Michael", his tag said.

"So it must be something serious, huh?" I asked him. Michael took a quick look at Joe.

"Uh, yeah."

I wasn't surprised when Joe took a hold of my hand and tugged so that we were face to face again.

"It's me – Joe," he said, grinning widely. I was a bit taken aback at his healthy exterior – he stood tall and erect, his skin smooth and clear, smile almost unnaturally white. I guess I had hoped him eventually succumb to a doughnut diet when I had heard his career choice.

"I know who you are," I replied and turned back to Michael. "I guess I get the receipt, then? Or how does the paper-work work in bounty hunting?"

"You are a bounty hunter?" Joe asked behind me, sounding incredulous. Jeez. The man was not taking the passive-aggressive hint I was sending. I didn't reply. Then Joe dragged me across the hall into a little room, locking the door behind us. I fumed. The ordeal with O'Brien was still keeping me on edge, so the rough touch of another man wasn't helping my frazzled state.

"What's wrong with you?" Joe asked after looking me from head to toe.

"Nothing," I replied.

"I haven't seen you in a while." He laughed. "Actually, we haven't talked since high school. I saw a glimpse of you every now and then. And then you just disappeared for a few years."

"Been busy," I said clip-toned.

He looked at me, obviously wondering what he was missing. We could be here all day.

It was rather easy to see what he was thinking, though. So he implies he remembers high school, yet doesn't understand what went awry between us. To put it simply, he was intellectually still a penis-lead idiot.

"Cupcake…"

"Don't call me that!" I snapped.

"Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? We haven't seen each other since… God. Is this about the Tasty Pastry incident?"

I kept my mouth shut. I merely straightened my t-shirt, eyes fixed on the door.

"It is…," Joe whispered, awed like he was seeing a flying pink elephant. "I can't believe you're being this childish, Steph."

Ok, so much for the silent treatment. "Excuse me?!" I questioned.

He shook his head. "Who reminisces past like that? It was high school! We were kids. We did dumb things."

"No, no, no. You don't get to go down that route!"

"I didn't rape you," he said heatedly. "It was all consensual between us."

"The school's bathroom-writings of our _incident_ came as a surprise to me!"

He paused. I was eager to hear how he was going to defend himself. His eyes took a little sight-seeing tour around the room. He was struggling.

"You haven't changed a bit, Morelli."

"Stephanie, I'm not the same man," he finally said, sounding oddly sincere. But from experience I knew that his puppy-eyed act tend to lead to a loss of something on my behalf.

"Yeah. You're a police officer now," I said sarcastically. We had a little staring contest after that.

"You know… I'm starting to believe itäs you who hasn't changed," he said after an eternity, angrily, and left the room.

I bit my lip. Oh well. I had better things than Joe Morelli on my mind.

When I returned to the Bonds Office, Vinnie dropped a can of soda he was drinking. He seemed surprised to see me.

"Stephanie! Thank goodness you're okay!" Connie said.

"I got my man," I said slowly, watching Vinnie carefully.

He swallowed audibly. "Oh. You were fast."

"You want to tell me what a high-level skip is?"

"Oh. Oh. I mean yes, about that… It seems I accidentally gave you a very dangerous skip. Connie was nice to point that out… But you were already outta door, so…"

I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head. "Scared for your balls?" I whispered.

"Weapons aren't allowed in my office," he said immediately, like a threat of violence was a daily occurrence in his life.

"You get 5 % from O'Brien," I informed him curtly. I was eager to sit down and despite his horridness, a spat with Vinnie was not something I had energy for at the moment.

"What?" he exclaimed, outraged. Sad. I could see the resemblance now – money made us courageous, even when one's life was on the line.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells fell from the tree…," I sang morbidly.

Vinnie sweated, then something like "YOU'RE THE DEVIL" slithered out of his mouth and he went to his office to sulk, slamming the door behind him.

I sat down.

"Are you okay?" Connie asked.

"Super."

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"Well. Come to think of it… I do need an apartment."

"Perfect. My friend is renting her place at the moment. It's furnished and all. You can move right in."

I smiled. Finally something going right.

"And Stephanie…," she said mysteriously. "Welcome back to Trenton. As I am blessed with a gift of fore-telling… I can tell things are going to get interesting here."

Connie beamed.

Now what was that supposed to mean?


	4. Stranger Danger Meaning Ranger

**4 Stranger Danger… Meaning Ranger**

It was midnight and I couldn't sleep.

Like Connie had promised, I had been able to move into her friend's apartment straight away and yes, it was a nice little flat I now inhabited and yes, I had MONEY NOW! Ka-Ching! At that thought I did a little happy dance.

But heavy emotions swirled in my head, disturbing not only my sleep but dance moves too. Those MIB people at O'Brien's were a pure coincidence. Today, they saved my life.

What if this bounty hunting went seriously down the toilet in the future too? What else could I do? Move in with my parents? What a horrifying thought. I hadn't even called them to say I was back in town.

I went to kitchen and poured some juice. I needed to calm down. I had money. Rent was not a cause for stress for a while. O'Brien was a mistake that wouldn't happen again. And hopefully by the time he was released from prison, I was already dead or trained to kill. Connie had hinted that she knew someone who could train me. "A real life G.I. Joe," she had described the man. I wondered if he'd be up to train a person who was seriously out of shape, not to mention hated guns. Connie had said not to worry because the man owned her. Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.

I sighed. As much as I tried to rationalize my future, I still felt restless. Something was disturbing my soul, as if my personal space had been invaded.

Sometimes there's a surprisingly obvious explanation for everything. Someone had indeed invaded my space. When I returned to my bedroom, a man was sitting on my bed. He was big. Muscular. His skin mocha-latte coloured. On top of his imposing body, he had a thick wad of black hair that looked silky in the moonlight. His face was unreadable but like his body, it resembled a sharply sculpted marmor statue.

I had immediate dislike for him.

"So you're Stephanie Plum," he said in a quiet voice, almost whispering.

"And you are?" I managed, holding the glass with both hands so it wouldn't drop or shake like a leaf midst of a storm.

"Ranger."

"And you're here because…?" I also wanted to ask why the strange nickname, but was it ever intelligent to question why Joker had a wide smile?

"You ran into my men earlier," he replied, moving to stand up.

**_Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!_**

Was he here to revenge? Was he a local drug-lord?

Standing, he hovered over me.

"I was there first," I replied tensely, taking a step back. Then added silkily, "I'm sure O'Brien is somewhere still in one piece for you to… whack his fingers off."

The man stayed blank-faced.

"Look, I don't know O'Brien personally. So you can't ransom him by threatening my life. If you leave now, I promise not to call the cops."

Still blank-faced. Double shit. He must be a psychopath too.

"Just wanted to see the cause of the eruption," he replied calmly after a pause, tilting his head slightly.

Yeah, right. And I'm a long-distance runner. Perhaps I lack in street credibility, but I'm pretty sure he just threatened me. For whatever reason, I could not understand.

I threw the juice at his face and dove at him when he blinked. I actually managed to weaken his balance and with satisfaction felt him coming down with me. He landed on the floor, I landed on him. I threw his t-shirt over his head while he squinted and ran to my front door. When I opened it, another dinosaur man waited behind it. He seemed surprised at seeing me, so I took advantage and dove at him too. Unfortunately, he was so enormous and my speed so slight, that I only bumped my head into his mountain of a chest. Quickly, he took hold of me and silenced me by putting his bear-like paw to my mouth.

"Ranger" was rather quick to follow. His blank face strained now. I guess juice attacks from females weren't a part of his usual repertoire. Must have fuelled his fire. Maybe he felt humiliated.

Ha ha.

He halted when he saw us.

"Oh man. Ranger, what did you do to her?" the man holding me groaned.

"I thought I told you to wait in the car, Tank."

Tank? Figures.

"Yeah well, I knew your wooing skills would cause something like this."

Then they just stared at each other.

"Ranger, I can hear her heart beating like she's about to meet her death," at last Tank said pointedly.

"I'm not afraid," I mumbled through his thick fingers, putting up a brave front. Ranger's eyes slid to me slowly. Like he was assessing something. I wondered if he ever accomplished anything in his life, taking so long in replying simple sentences. I bet people in line desired to kill him when he ordered at McDonalds.

"We should leave," he commented shortly.

I agreed. Unfortunately, not with the next sentence.

"She's coming with us," Ranger added and went ahead down the stairs.

I glanced upwards. Tank looked at me with a sigh and then scooped me up bridal style.

"Let's go, miss."

* * *

Like a child, I traveled the ride to a destination unknown in Tank's lap in the back-seat while the great silent one drove the black SUV they had forced me into. It was a bad sign they didn't cover my eyes.

I guess Tank had gone to a trance, because his paws suddenly flew away from my thighs somewhere in the middle of our trip.

"Ranger. She doesn't have any pants on."

I was glad he noticed. I was half-naked, shoeless, shivering. Like mine, I could feel Tank's muscles tense in anticipation when we both anxiously waited Ranger's reply. Perhaps we'd go back so I could have jeans. And call the cops.

"So?" Ranger replied after a small eternity.

Like a furious piranha, I lunged myself toward the driver's seat, but Tank managed to keep his boss safe, caughting me mid-air and caged me back inside his huge arms.

Ranger stayed stoic, as if a crazy person hadn't just tried to bite his ear off.

Who was this man? I glared hard and obviously was successful because he suddenly rubbed his neck, seeming to sense the imaginary knives I was sending.

We came to a sleek dark building, and Tank released me once inside the building's garage.

"Take her to seven," I heard Ranger say quietly to Tank.

I cringed. What was on seven? Torture devices?

Tank nodded toward an elevator and I followed him like a nice little puppy. I could feel his eyes on me on the ride up, which was rather unnerving.

We came to an apartment door and Tank ushered me in.

"Wait here," he said shortly and left.

I looked around. Wow. The place was like a hotel room. So neat, so clean, so modern. Glass, dark colours, steel. Did anyone actually live here? There was a minimum of personal possessions, if any. A wrist watch on a kitchen table. A set of keys next to it. But no warmth of cozy living. Maybe the place was merely a necessity, a cave for someone to sleep in occasionally.

I wandered around the living room and did the obvious –searched for weapons. Nothing usable was available though. Not even a fork to stab with.

After a while I heard a sound at the door. You know, in a horror movie the lead character might do something stupid right now. Like sneak behind the criminal and try to run out….

I was that stupid. And yes, my escapade was short-lived.

When Ranger grabbed me round the waist, my knee was fast to speed toward his groin but before any damage was done, he tackled me down to the floor.

"You have a tendency to act hostile toward men," he whispered, raising his brow like my behaviour was unreasonable.

I just lay there, staring up at his dark eyes, panting. Why wouldn't I try to defend myself? Not my fault that men appeared to do the most of inhumane deeds.

Ooh. This close I could smell a pleasant smell radiating off of him. Involuntarily, I dazed a bit.

Then Ranger rose and lifted me up. It was unsettling how smoothly he did that. His appearance didn't lie – he had strength.

I hated him. I didn't like anything he stood for - male body, male superiority, and male aggressiveness.

"Sit." He said that ominously enough, so I sat slowly on the living-room sofa.

He sat on the coffee table next to it, so that our knees were touching. I moved quickly to cover my legs with my over-sized night-shirt.

But he leaned close, so very close that our noses touched too. Mine was cold against his warm one.

It was a hypnotic experience to see his chocolate eyes from a millimeter distance. I usually watched only my face this close and that was in front of a mirror.

Perhaps he wasn't a slow thinker. In fact, he seemed to be the opposite of it. Intense. His eyes kept staring into me as if they would skewer into my soul. Cold sweat spread across my back. Suddenly, breathing was difficult.

I had to look away. Except he wouldn't let me. He raised my chin back up with his fingers.

"You've endangered your life," he said.

"I'm sure life-expectancy gets better when you let me go," I chirped in a taunting manner, sounding like a twisted Mary Poppins. What the hell was wrong with me?

"This is a dangerous business you are dealing with."

"What business? I'm not into drug-dealing."

He didn't reply, so I took my time watching his face, admiring his high cheek bones. He could have been a Dior model and made a fortune like that. But perhaps posing in front of a camera didn't give thrills like kidnapping people. Like… perhaps, killing people.

A tremor crossed my body. Ranger noticed it, obviously. He cocked his head a bit. The way he tracked his environment, perhaps nothing ever slipped from him. He was in a constant stand-by mode. And yet, appeared relaxed. Like a poisonous snake basking in sun, seemingly occupied in pleasure but all the same ready to bite viciously if it came to it.

What had made him to choose the dark side of the law? Maybe he had grown in poverty, in the streets. Would explain his soldier-like demeanour. He had adopted cruel but essential ways of survival to his environment from the start.

Most likely, he had learned to trust no one.

Ugh. What was I doing? Feeling sympathy for him? Was I already having Stockholm syndrome symptoms? No matter what his past, he had no right to kidnap people and threaten them.

I met his stare with the same coolness he was channeling.

I guess my sudden calmness wasn't satisfactory and it was time for Scary Tactics 101, because he pulled a small knife from his ankle and fingered its tip in a careless manner.

"Nice tooth-pick," I commented. He smiled.

"I run a business."

"So?" I said after a long pause. He, too, took his time replying. He flipped the knife in the air, twice, and then put it aside on the table and with elbows resting over his knees, steepled his fingers together.

He locked eyes with me.

"_So…._ it's my business when a mission fails. When a completely inexperienced, inadequate person through _nepotism_ interferes."

I frowned. He was acting like a principle, giving a lecture to a disobedient pupil. As if his criminal organization was a serious business. I munched this in silence. Guess his attitude explained the black outfits his men wore.

Hm. A serious criminal was a bad thing. I was _soooo _fucked.

I started to ramble.

"I already told you I was there first! And by the way, I was there alone. Your men were armed from teeth to toe. Looked like a circus down there!" I blabbed, letting go of my shirt, waving my arms through the air.

He laughed! Surprising how nice it sounded. Not a maniacal cackle at all, more like a warm… humming sound.

"Do you practice self-defense?" he asked when his laughter died.

"No," I replied, raising my brow. What was he up to?

"Do you exercise?"

What was this, a doctor's appointment? I wouldn't dignify to answer to that. I guess he sensed the very hostile change in the atmosphere, and moved on to the next topic.

"You have a gun?" he asked quickly.

"Okay, mister. Enough of this. I get that people like you get excitement from scaring people, but the joke has run its course. I learned the lesson – do not mess with Ranger and his band of evil Merry Men. Now let me go?"

He sighed. Was that a positive sigh? Like, "fine, you can go", or "shit, still have one to kill before my beauty sleep"?

"Someone will drive you in the morning."

"In the morning?!"

"I've had a long day. Either sleep here, or walk home without pants and shoes."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"In my bed."

"And where is your bed?"

"There." He nodded toward a closed door.

This was his apartment?

"And where I am going to sleep?" I asked wearily. In a dog cage?

"You can sleep on the sofa. Or, if you want to… with me."

His face was very hard to read, but I knew there was a hint of a smile there.

I raised my both brows. Like hell I was going to sleep next to him. I guess this was another attempt to scare.

But then it hit me. He was obviously a person who was… how should I put it… "aware of himself and his surroundings". He must've known what an intimidating effect he could have on people – no tooth picks needed. He could kill me sans weapon.

He was testing me. Why? Did he think I was so daft I'd attack him? Ok, perhaps I had, twice already, but still…. Something didn't feel right. Was he trying to distract me from something? Again, I watched carefully his expression.

"The sofa it is, then," I replied.

He rose. "Your choice, babe." He stalled. I fumed. Then he made a quick exit to his room, closing the door behind him.

_Babe?! _Was he a pimp too? For heaven's sake.

I massaged my cold thighs. Crying felt natural, but needed to be postponed. My kidnapper would not hear me sniffling.

I settled on my right side on the sofa, swearing to sleep one eye open in case the possible women subjugator next door would have sudden ideas. Staying up all night might be easy, considering my body temperature.

An unexpected happened when Ranger's bedroom door opened again and the man appeared with two warm blankets and a pillow. He unfolded the blankets and slid them over me disturbingly carefully, as if he was wrapping a present. I wanted to tell him to keep his hands to himself but oddly, couldn't overcome the tense silence. Finally, he handed me the pillow. I gave a chilly stare but took the thing. He said nothing, looked like nothing and went back to his room.

If I'm able to leave this place alive, I'll show "Ranger" with whom he is messing with. Tomorrow, Connie's G.I. Joe and I would make a deal.

When my shivering stopped, I was out cold, both eyes.


End file.
